


Sharp Dressed Rick

by JustSomeSmutHere



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Gaslighting, Idk where I wanna go with this but it's hot, M/M, Rick being a pussy, dubcon, rickcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-20 12:09:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16136942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSomeSmutHere/pseuds/JustSomeSmutHere
Summary: I don't know where to go next exactly but have this.





	1. Chapter 1

Rick was tired. Hell he was always tired these days. This was nothing new for him.  
He sat in his favorite coffee shop at the Citadel, favorite cup in hand, trying to invigorate his tired bones and mind.  
‘Morty's Place’ was the only establishment in the Citadel that knew how to roast the beans juuuuust right, at least in his opinion. Burnt probably wasn’t to everyone’s taste. Where did they get the beans? He'd asked himself this many times but just didn’t care enough to actually figure it out. No, coming here every morning for a cup was just what he needed.  
He liked his coffee black, no cream, no sugar, no fancy bullshit. Plain coffee, black, burned, bitter. So naturally he was often the only one in there. They sold old ‘donuts’ that desperately hungry Ricks and Mortys would sometimes purchase and later regret. The main function of the shop was to be a front for a drug business run out back. And he had to be honest with himself, that shit was pretty good too. But he was really here for the coffee. All for the coffee.  
It was in a very seedy part of Mortytown. But luckily this particular street was usually extremely quiet. 

So you can imagine his surprise when a very snappily dressed Rick comes strolling in. He was looking all business and shit. 'Look at this gaywad.’ He thought sourly with a small grimace. ‘What did he step out of a Men's Warehouse catalog? What a nerdy dipshit. Citadel robot.'  
Rick looked up at him from over his cup, watching him approach the counter, a look of boredom spread across his own features. I mean he was bored and the guy was quite a spectacle for this place so why not watch? He almost shrugged to himself as he reasoned.  
The man was dressed in a black vest with a long sleeve white shirt along with a matching tie,  
slacks and shoes. All black except for the shirt.  
This Rick had a quiet confidence about him and this wasn't like a, 'I know what I'm doing' kind of confidence like rogue Rick’s. It was more of a 'I'm in charge.' He made a statement and nothing more needed to be said.  
He pulled a slim leather wallet from his pocket and was already holding the bill out to the Morty barista, ‘barista’ being a term that was used very loosely.  
“Coffee, black. You know how I like it.”  
The words were succinct and casual. As if he’d done this many, many times before.

'Know how I like it'?... So he had been here before and likely frequented the place before Rick found the it. And now after a long stint of... who the hell knows what, he was back for his favorite burnt coffee.

Rick's brows rose slightly. So, he wasn't the only one who patronized the shop that had real taste. Wasn't the only one who could see the value in a good, strong, bitter cup of coffee. One that you drank and almost hated, but that was part of what made it so satisfying. Coupled with drinking it when it was a bit too hot so it burned all the way down.  
He was momentarily distracted by his thoughts and when he came back to himself he realized the sharp dressed Rick was staring at him, his expression looked just as bored as he himself felt. His eyes went wide for a split second before drooping again lazily and his expression changed to one that perfectly conveyed: 'Can I help you, motherfucker?' 

The other Rick surveyed him for another good few seconds, appraising him, obviously unfazed by his brash bravado. This was something that was also a bit bewildering because Rick knew how to give a look. It clearly told everyone not to get on his bad side. He could even intimidate most other Ricks which was a feat within itself. They simply didn't expect his immediate and uncompromising rudeness. Most Ricks were kind of apathetic about the whole thing, they just didn't care to fuck with him since he was such a pain in the ass. But this guy was apparently different.  
C-137 had that hard gaze down pat. A gaze that said he could back up its intensity with weapons or a fist if need be. The fact was that most Ricks simply didn't want to deal with him. He prided himself on being extra abrasive. Fuck everyone, just fuck ‘em.

That sharp dresser, his expression calm and collected though extremely bored, looked at him, scanning his face once again. Rick bristled, he didn't like that one fuckin' bit. Who the hell did he think he was? 'Fuck you. What are you lookin’ at?' His eyes said as they narrowed dangerously in wariness and skepticism.  
His lip twitched.

“H-h-here's your coffee, Rick!”  
The Morty held it out, his hand shaking slightly.  
'This damn crackhead.' Rick thought.

The new Rick’s brows raised and he turned his attention back toward the counter, grabbing the coffee deftly. C-137 hoped against hope he wouldn't do what he thought he might 'Don't look at me again. I don't wanna look at your perverted ass face anymore you son of a bitch'.  
And yet the sidelong gaze met his eyes again; and this time, alarmingly, there seemed to be interest there. What kind of interest, he didn’t want to think about.  
The guy chuckled. It was a barely audible, clipped sort of sound with an accompanying slight lift of one of the corners of his mouth.

Rick narrowed his eyes further, glaring positively murderously and keeping eye contact until the other turned away.  
He looked down at his coffee, his lip lifted in a sneer. He took a big gulp.  
It was cold.

 

It was about a week later, well, nine days to be precise. It was yet another morning and another coffee.There was no sign that this day would be different. Rick was just settling into the satisfyingly scorching liquid when he heard the little bell tinkle merrily. He was too lazy to turn so he just shifted his gaze to see who the patron was. He blinked, almost startled. It was that same Rick, the one in business casual. Questions began to surface in his mind. 'Who was this guy?' 'If he likes the coffee so much why does he come so infrequently? Is he going all the way out of his way to Mortytown from the heart of the Citadel? Did he work and live far from here?'. Because Ricks that looked like that didn't work in Mortytown. They were investment bankers that worked in the city. These types of guys were junior execs of companies. They didn't belong in Mortytown, that was for damn sure.  
Today that strange Rick had a quiet smile on his face as he walked to the counter, but he didn't even glance his way.  
He kept his eyes on him. Ricks are curious creatures by nature and C-137 certainly wasn’t any exception. He felt he didn’t need to be so on his guard as the other wasn't really paying attention to him. So he allowed his expression to lax into one of scant interest.

“Coffee, black, you know how I like it.”

Same exact order, same exact words, same exact tone. Same bill already held out already for Morty to accept.

“O-okay coming up! One black c-coffee!”

Rick slipped his wallet back into his pocket smoothly before taking out his phone and perusing it.

“H-h-here you go, sir! Have a nice day!”

He nodded at the Morty and turned to leave. Rick watched him and was absolutely unnerved when the other gave him a fleeting glance and a wink along with a grin. 'What the fuck?’ He knew it. He was a fuckin’ perv.  
He looked away, unsure of how to feel and downed his coffee, letting it burn his throat.

Exactly nine days later, he heard a familiar ting of the bell. Rick knew what day it was and quickly looked to the door, scowling, and he wasn’t disappointed or rather was as that same Rick's stupid fucking smarmy face appeared. This time he had the shithead had gall to look right the fuck at him as he walked in, smirking like some cocky bastard.  
Rick dipped his head and seethed silently, watching him from under a heavy brow eyes following him.

Wallet, bill, then:  
“Coffee, black, you know how I like it.”

“Y-yes sir! Oh!.. W-we're out! S-sorry. W-w-would you like to wait for me to brew another pot?” Morty’s voice cracked out gratingly.  
Because they didn't have an actual machine. Just a pot. And yet for some reason the ground beans themselves came from somewhere special because those grounds were like nothing else on the Citadel.

He smiled.  
“Of course I'll wait, that's just fine.”  
There was a grin in his voice and it was smooth and silky and rubbed Rick the wrong way, making his skin crawl.

Rick wasn't stupid. Far from it and he sneered. 'Just leave, perv.'. He clutched possessively at his coffee, following the perverted Rick with his eyes as he took a seat at the only other table in the cafe. Yet again he proceeded to take out his phone, scanning through Rickbook or probably something or something stupid like that. Though there was still that annoying little grin on his face and he even hummed quietly to himself while Rick simply glowered at him.  
Who the fuck did he think he is? Hopped up motherfucker. This was HIS shop. HE’D found it. Hell he’d been coming here for 8 months now with not a single sign of this asshole’s presence. Now he wants to come back like he owns the place, fuck him. Fuck this guy.

It was a good five minutes before Morty announced that the coffee was ready. And Rick stared him down the whole time, getting increasingly irritated. ‘Just leave already.’

Rick stood up and pocketed his phone smartly, taking the coffee with a smile.  
“Well alright, fresh pot. What a treat!”  
His voice had some hidden quality the Rick did not like, and he couldn’t place.  
Then he turned and walked away. As expected he flashed a grin at Rick. A smug little grin that made Rick absolutely furious. He watched him go out the door and waited till it closed slowly then he stood, the chair sliding out noisily from under him. His coffee forgotten, he followed the other Rick.

 

The snappily dressed Rick had his phone out again in one hand, coffee in the other, he blew on it gently every now and then as he stared at his device, a stupid dumbass little smile still on his stupid dumbass face. Like he didn’t have a care in the fucking world.

Rick tailed him at a safe distance, hands curled into fists. As soon as he passed an alleyway, C-137 jumped him. His shit-eating-grin, dressed up counterpart yelped as Rick grabbed him by the lapel and slammed him against the wall. He looked startled, even terrified until he saw who it was, his mouth forming an easy grin.

 

He was in his face, snarling.  
“Listen here you jackass. I've killed Ricks for way less than that cutesy shit you pulled. If you EVER look at me like that again-”

“Heyyy you're C-137 aren't you?”  
He was cut off as if the other didn’t have a care in the world. As if he’d been saying hello to an acquaintance or asking about the weather. His smile was a friendly one, his voice easy and calm.

The response completely derailed his tirade and he looked at him with skepticism, though he didn't let up the pressure he was pinning him against the wall with.  
“Wh- Who gives a shit? Don't come near me anymore and don't come to MY coffee shop. I don't wanna see your dumb fuckin' face around when I'm trying to relax.”

The other Rick nodded in understanding. Purposely misinterpreting his words, causing fury to course through ‘Rogue’ Rick all over again..  
“Ahhh I see, you're the owner. Sorry to have bothered you, sir.”  
His voice was soft and deep and there was a simmering heat behind it that made Rick's guts squirm at the word 'sir'.

C-137 simply stared at him for a moment, his brows knitting together as his eyelids lowered. As if he was tired of fighting. As if he felt like he was trying to threaten the brick wall instead of the man he had crushed against it.  
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”  
He said simply and for once not in a mocking tone.

 

The other Rick simply sighed and shook his head, the little smile not leaving his mouth.  
“Look Rick, I’m not gonna beat around the bush about this. I simply saw something I wanted and so I sent out signals to see if you were interested. I do have to tell you though, I usually get what I want.”

‘Regular’ Rick let go of him immediately and stepped back, flinching, as if he’d been burned.  
“A-a-are you saying you wanna fuck me?! What the hell man?! Y-y-you’re sick! You’re one of those Ricks!”  
It certainly wasn’t unheard of and it certainly didn’t warrant the reaction he was having. But Rick couldn’t help it. The thought made his stomach twist. And not in a good way.

That sharp dressed Rick rolled his eyes. He was done with games and really didn’t appreciate how much of a coward the famed C-137 was being. What a pussy.  
“Look, Rick. We both know that I’m going to walk into that coffee shop nine days from now and you’ll be there and when I leave, you’ll come with me. And then you’ll let me fuck you because deep down I know that’s what you want. Who knows a Rick better than another Rick?”  
A little smirk was playing on his mouth again at this point and it turned downright nasty.  
“You want this Rick, I can see it in your eyes. You want me to fuck you. Tell me I’m wrong. Say it. Say it right now, Rick and I’ll leave you alone forever.”

Rick backed up so fast he tripped over an uneven section of pavement, landing hard on his ass. He groaned in pain, suppressing a squeak. His heart was beating like a hammer against the inside of his ribs and sweat suddenly stood out on his brow. The other Rick was advancing on him and he hastily drew a gun with a shaky hand. But he never did say those words. And the other Rick had an idea that it was absolutely purposeful.  
“Come one step closer you sick fuck and I’ll blow your brains all over the fucking sidewalk.”  
His voice was low and dangerous, calm even if his actions weren’t, and the other knew he meant it.

So the ‘business’ Rick put his hands up with a smile and raised his brow, backing up. Treating the whole thing as if it was some sort of joke between friends.  
“Alright Rick.. Alright. Easy there buddy.”  
He paused for a moment with a smirk, standing at a safe distance, making it clear he wasn’t going to bother him any further. But he did add however.  
“See you in nine days.”  
The words were smooth and his voice fell an octave, making Rick shiver.

Still shaking, perhaps even more than before, he gestured with the gun.  
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.”

 

Rick’s feet dragged him forward, he was sweating and felt like he might vomit and yet he put one foot in front of the other. Why was he doing this? Why was he going here? By doing this he was committing to something he wasn’t sure he wanted. No, something he was sure he didn’t want. Did he? What did he want? Did he want to be told little truths about himself breathed heavily across his ear by a depraved and sick stranger? Did he really want that? Told he was a sick fuck? He shivered, cold sweat breaking out on his brow, but continued to make his way to the cafe. He needed to know what was going to happen.

The tiny bell tinkled as he entered, sending shivers up his spine. A small noise that he used to love so much. A noise that meant to him that the bitter, hot liquid would soon be sliding down his throat, was now tainted by the ‘other’. An unwanted and unnerving presence.  
C-137 looked at the ‘barista’ Morty who gave him a simpering, drug-addled smile.

“C-coffee, black.”  
‘You know how I like it.’ Echoed in the back of his head and he shuddered.

Why was he here? What could he possibly get out this experience? This wasn’t something he wanted, he told himself. And yet there he was, standing and waiting for his fucking coffee.

He took the scorching liquid from the Morty, well more snatched it but Morty didn’t seem to mind or even notice.

Rick made his way to his usual seat at one of the two tiny tables in the ‘cafe’. His eyes were frightened and calculating as he made many sidelong glances at the door. He sipped his coffee, not even enjoying it. The bitter burn was no longer pleasant, it only made his stomach churn and ache.

He looked down into his cup and tapped his foot impatiently, feeling sweat drip down his forehead. What the hell was he doing here? The other was a cruel bastard, that much was obvious. It would be the largest of fallacies to say he wasn’t cruel himself. But every Rick was slightly different and he liked to think he was very different then all the others. This Rick was a sicko. But something about him was magnetic and Rick was indeed impatient to see him again. It made him nauseous.

As he was looking down the little bell jingled and his head jerked up. He was nearly hyperventilating. It felt to him as if many emotions were washing over him in a jumble: terror, fascination, revulsion, and most unfortunately, lust.

A pair of eyes bored into his for a long moment. His eyes. Eyes exactly like his, down to the very last freckle and striation. The same casual smirk he sometimes had when he felt like he had the upper hand in a situation. He didn’t have that smirk today. In fact he felt the furthest he’d been in a long time from wanting to let it make an appearance.

The other man looked away and made his way over to the counter, two fingers sliding into his wallet to pull out a ten. Always a ten. Then came his customary phrase.  
In the good minute or two until the coffee was thrust into his hand, an easy smile played about his lips, it wasn’t the same smile as he’d had all the other times. There was a ‘there’s a spider in my web’ quality about it as he fiddled with his phone.

C-137’s eyes were locked on him the whole time. His mouth felt try and his stomach and chest felt like they were knots. Run. Leave. Go.

Rick smoothly took the coffee and turned to walk out. That little smug fucking smirk still plastered on his face. He didn’t even deign to look at him.

For a long moment, C-137 just sat there. Then, just as predicted he stood up suddenly and left the coffee shop on legs that felt like they might buckle at any second.


	2. Chapter 2

C-137 followed him on shaky legs, faltering and almost tripping a few times. His heart was hammering in his chest. He knew himself and he knew other Ricks. He knew what he would do if he was in the other Rick’s situation. But this Rick wasn’t doing any of the things he would have. And it scared and confused him. For once, Rick didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t even have an inkling.

Would he be raped? Was he going to be held against his will? He didn’t know what was going to happen. But he knew something in him wanted to go with this other Rick and it was overtaking his logic. It made disgust rise in him. He was always too amorous for his own good.

The other stopped and rogue Rick was so deep in thought that he almost bumped into him, startling himself.

That other Rick turned to look at him.  
“I’m A-935.”

He offered his hand with a little smile and only non-existent god knew why Rick took and shook it.  
Then he pulled his hand away and wiped it on his coat. He realized with a bit of disgust that his own hands were sweaty.  
Than with alarm, C-137 noticed A-935 was looking at the hand he’d just shook and rolling his palm against his fingertips, feeling his sweat, he guessed. For some reason it made a violent shiver run through him.

“Why are you so nervous?”  
The other asked in a calm and even tone.

Rick wasn’t having any of his games, if they were going to do it, they were going to do it.  
“Shut the fuck up and stop asking stupid-ass questions.”

A-935 tutted.  
“Now. That’s no way to treat someone who’s going to force the noises out of you that I’m going to.”

Rick’s eyes went wide.

The Rick in the suit turned again.  
“Well I suppose we’d better go than.”

 

C-137 followed him, feeling tense all over. He was still swirling in a haze of emotions. Apprehension, excitement, and fear with more than a hint of lust.  
He could feel himself getting impatient. Whatever was going to happen he wanted to get it over with or at least start it. But he got the distinct feeling that A-935 was going to drag this out. He hoped he was wrong though.

Rick stopped again and turned to him, making him blanch.  
“So… What do you want to do?”  
He asked in a hushed tone that the other Ricks and Mortys around him couldn’t hear.

Rogue Rick’s eyes widened slightly, completely caught off guard by the question. But he didn’t appreciate being fucked with, understatement of the century, so he crossed his arms and lowered his brow, basically pouting.  
“Oh, so now I’m supposed to make some kind of decision in this situation? I thought you were content with running this whole show.”  
He gestured for clarity.  
“Now I’m suddenly supposed to be under the illusion that I have some kind of choice about what’s going to happen? I told you I don’t like games. And honestly I’m a little tired of telling you something that you already know. So get your shit straight or I’m bailing.”

 

A-935’s eyes were alight with something and it wasn’t kind.  
“No. I don’t think that you will bail. You’re here with me for a reason. You followed me for a reason. I think I already clarified what I know you want. You’re the smartest man in the universe. Maybe you don’t always know what you want but you know now. I want you to tell me what you want. Tell me what you want or you’re not getting anything.”  
His voice was teasing and soft as he whittled away at Rick’s resolve and he could see from the look on his face that it was working. A mild fervor flared inside him.

C-137 blushed. Not a common look for a Rick. It only made the other want him more.

“Look I’m gonna level with you. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I don’t know what you’re going to do to me. I know it’s sexual and you promised it would be good. That’s all I gotta know. Now you tell me what’s going on or show me or something. Christ.”  
He shuffled his feet, obviously feeling unsure of himself and out of his depth, blustering and talking nonsense at this point.

The mysterious Rick pointed to an alleyway, specifically behind a dumpster and as Rick’s eyes followed where he pointed, he shook his head violently, whispering, scared.  
“No fuckin’ way man. W-what are you gonna do to me over there huh? You gonna force me to give you a blowjob then slice me open and fuck my corpse before you leave me to rot? Jesus. I’m not goin in no dirty fuckin alley with a freak like y-AUGH!”

He was thrust headlong into the dingy light. The other Rick’s eyes were suddenly hard, his mouth thin a look of contempt and apathy suffusing his features.

C-137’s eye twitched. He was sorely regretting getting mixed up with this unpredictable sicko. He himself was a pretty sick fuck but not like this. Something was wrong with this guy. Something bad and now whatever it was, he had to face it.  
He could always shoot him. But he had the feeling that wasn’t going to happen. He had this overwhelming feeling that there was nothing he could possibly do to get out of this situation. Whether that was true or not was a completely different matter.

So with his head down he shuffled behind the dumpster as he was urged.

He could feel A-935’s eyes on him as he stared at the brick wall, walking closer to it. He felt cornered, like a trapped animal and he didn’t like it one bit.   
He should have run. He should have shot him. Why wasn’t he shooting him? Why wasn’t this Rick already dead on the damn ground? Why?  
Rogue Rick finally turned to face him, apprehension written on his face. But the other Rick didn’t seem to be too concerned.  
C-137 successfully suppressed a squeal as A-935’s palm smacked into the brick next to his head.

“I’m only gonna ask you one more time before I leave you.”  
His voice grew softer, quieter, gentler.  
“Rick. What do you want from me? Why is it that you followed me here?”

C-137 cleared his throat and tried to speak but not a sound came out. His voice finally cracked.  
“I… I… Listen man, cmon.. Cmon man I mean.. Why are you making me say this?”  
He’d broken. Rick ran a hand through his hair and breathed in.

The other eyed him critically, trying his best to be patient. He wasn’t going to leave of course, not really. He knew he could break him, could already see his will snapping beneath his own stony resolve.  
So he spoke again, slowly, persistently.  
“Rick.. I want you to say it. Because if you say it, you can accept it about yourself. I want to watch your face when you say it. I want to watch your face when you realize who you really are. And then after that. I’m going to take you to a dirty, filthy little hotel room. One that fits who you are inside and I’m gonna do exactly that. Exactly what you want me to. Because after all, Rick, you want this.”

C-137 was blushing unabashedly. He couldn’t help it. He’d never been spoken to this way. No one had ever dared talk to him in such a manner. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Fuck this guy!  
He shoved him away hard, eyes icy and scornful. He grabbed his shoulders and flipped their positions and stuck his finger in his face.  
“LISTEN! I’m not taking any more of your FUCKIN GAMES!”  
He almost spit in his face but thought better of it. So instead he tripped him and threw him hard to the ground, making the other cry out in pain.  
THEN he spit on him.

A-935 groaned making his counterpart laugh triumphantly, giving him the double bird for good measure.  
“YEA-HEAH! FUCK YOU FREAK! That’s what you get when you fuck with the rogue Ri-!”  
He was utterly confused when he found himself on the ground and a heavy weight was on top of him making him grunt.  
“NGH!”  
Something was squeezing his throat and it was only a few seconds before he started to become dizzy, someone was speaking to him quietly and he strained to listen and understand, fully aware that his life depended on it.

“Listen here you little fucking bitch.”  
The words were spat out contemptuously.  
“You’re gonna tell me you want me to fuck you. You’re gonna tell me you want me to fuck you hard because I can totally feel how hard your dick is right now.”

Rick almost moaned.

“Don’t play coy with me. Don’t act like you want it and try to run away when I know it’s the last thing you really wanna do. You being scared isn’t gonna change how much you want it deep down in your fucking guts. How much you crave and need this.”  
The voice was a seething hiss now.

Rick let out a choked, wheezy whimper.

“Now. Tell me Rick.. Tell me what you want.”

The pressure on his throat loosened and he took in a rush of air coughing but not bothering to fully catch his breath before replying, his voice desperate, making him feel utterly ashamed.

“I-I-I want you to fuck me! God dammit! I want you to fuck me so hard I fucking bleed okay!? Is that what you wanna hear, you son of a fucking bitch?! I want it! Fucking fuck me right here for all I give a shit just fucking do it and stop torturing me!”

The pressure holding him down by his arms and hips let up immediately and a hand was thrust into his which he slapped away.  
“Fuck off.”  
He mumbled, standing with a grunt and dusting himself off, pulling on the lapels of his coat, trying to straighten it out as if it was his fractured dignity.  
Rick didn’t deign to look at the other until he felt a firm squeeze to his left bicep. A squeeze that was a bit too hard.  
He looked up in anger to meet sharp, icy eyes the same as his own.

A voice dripping with contempt muttered,  
“Let’s go you little slut.”


End file.
